Atonement
by Amber-and-Ash
Summary: On HIATUS pending rewrite. Dumbledore orders Snape to look after Harry after he leaves school. Will eventually be HPSS SLASH.
1. The Fidus Servus Oath

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment. 

A/N:        1. This is my first attempt at something like this. Let me know if it's worth   continuing it.      

                2. My Latin is terrible. If my usage is incorrect, please tell me.

                3. Un-beta-ed, British spelling used.

4. I have read way too much fan fiction to know if any of my stuff is original. If you feel I have stolen something of yours, tell me and I will credit you / remove it.

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**Chapter 1: The _Fidus Servus_ Oath**

When I reached Albus's offices, I was irritated to find that the Golden Boy was there as well. With him having just graduated, I was hoping I would be spared his presence from now on. 

"Ah, Severus. Please have a seat. Tea?"

"No thank you, Headmaster. What did you wish to see me for?"

"Sit down, sit down, my dear boy. All will become clear in good time."

I flung myself down in the chair next to Potter's. For some reason I still live in hope that Albus will cease this benevolent patriarch pretence. It isn't as if he is above issuing orders when it suits his purposes, and he's done it in front of Potter before.

"There are just a few more details about your apartment that we need to finalise, Harry. You accept that it is unwise that your friends stay with you?"

"Yes, sir. Besides, they have their own lives to lead."

Even I, disinterested as I was in the Golden Trio, could hardly have missed the overwhelming preoccupation Weasley and Granger had with each other. Nevertheless, I was surprised – I had assumed that they would tag along in this as they tagged along in everything else.

"But you needn't worry about being left completely alone, Harry. I will be sending some-one with you who can assist you should you be attacked."

This was news to me too, and my presence for this conversation had better not mean what I thought it meant. Potter was obviously thinking along the same lines, because he shot me a horrified glance. 

"Surely that's not necessary, sir. My friends will be visiting often, and I do have my work to do – I don't need company. And it may still be years until Voldemort is defeated. You can hardly assign anyone to me for that length of time."

"Don't worry about that, Harry. Severus here has no outside commitments that he need worry about."

"Albus…"

"Sir…"

Albus cast me one of those looks, and I subsided. Let Potter convince him of the ridiculousness of this plan. Clearly a temporary derangement on Albus's part lead him to consider it at all.

"Sir, one of the purposes of my further training is to teach me to act self-sufficiently. I hardly think that this arrangement would help that."

Despite myself, I'm impressed – going for the logical argument instead of the myriad of emotional reasons.

"Oh, I don't see why not. Severus will take your orders, and simply act to protect you."

Potter was opening and closing his mouth like a retarded fish. I would have been far more amused if it weren't for the fact that I was similarly affected.

"But, sir… You can't believe that."

I flinched. It shouldn't have surprised me that he didn't trust me. I might have saved his life innumerable times over the last seven years, but once a traitor, always a traitor. I suppose I had hoped that despite our mutual hatred we had developed somewhat of a working relationship. 

"What, do you think that Severus is going to kill you the minute my back is turned?" asked Albus, the amusement clear in his voice. I'm glad some one was enjoying all of this.

"Well, no, but… well, our track record. I mean, can you really think he will take orders?"

So that's what he meant. To my disgust, I felt relieved.

"Simply cured. A _Fidus Servus _oath will ensure appropriate behaviour."

I replayed that sentence a few times to check whether I really had heard correctly. I stood shakily.

"Albus, I absolutely refuse…"

"Harry," interjected Albus smoothly, "will you give Severus and I a few minutes alone?"

"Of course, sir."

Unwillingly, I waited until Potter had left the room. But before I could open my mouth again, Albus stood up and walked to me. Gone was the kindly old eccentric. This was the man who had faced down Grindelwald and struck fear in Voldemort's heart. My knees went weak, and I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes.

"Do you recall a conversation we had in these rooms almost eighteen years ago now?"

The night I returned to the fold. Not something I could forget.

"Yes, sir."

"You went down on your knees and told me you would do whatever it took, for the rest of your life, to assist the light side and atone for your sins. Have you reconsidered that promise, Severus?"

"No, sir." 

Albus was playing the ultimate card, something he had never done before. He had allowed me a fairly long leash in how I conducted my duties, and I guess I had come to expect it. 

"Do you think that acting as a personal servant for one of the most powerful wizards on the light side is some-how unworthy of you and that promise?"

I had, but that clearly wasn't an acceptable response.

"No, sir."

"So you will devote your whole mind and soul to this new service?"

Albus was right. It wasn't for me to choose my own penance. And this would be very appropriate – my descent had been caused by a lust for power, it was only fitting that I relinquish all my power to another. That the other would be Potter was simply an additional, well-deserved, humiliation.  

"Yes, sir."

Finally satisfied, Albus returned to his chair. 

"I am sorry, my boy. I wouldn't ask this if it wasn't necessary."

"If I may ask, sir, why is it necessary?" 

It was a simply a request for more information, not a questioning of his orders – I was not about to risk anything else.

"Harry needs some-body. Not only to act as a body-guard, but also to take care of his personal needs. He is… rather inclined to forget about them if left to himself. You are one of the few people powerful enough to act as the first, and the only one of those Harry would accept to act as the last. And only under these circumstances."

I nodded. It was more of an explanation than I was expecting. I did appreciate the irony that it was my deliberate distancing of the boy that allowed this forced intimacy to occur.

"Why don't you go and prepare for your departure while I finish my discussion with Harry?"

I nodded again, and turned to the door. I had no doubt that the headmaster would be able to convince Potter to agree. I should have remembered that Albus always got his way if he was determined enough. 

The lab and potions closets where already in order – I always did a thorough clean-up and inventory at the end of each year. Preparing took little more than removing the supply lists and lesson plans from my files and placing them on the desk for my replacement. My rooms took very little longer. Aside from my clothes and books, I had no personal possessions. Almost two decades, and I still treated this place like a temporary haven. Well, my existence was shortly about to become even more barren.

I shrunk my belongings, and made my way back about to Albus's offices. Potter was back sitting in the same chair.

"Are you ready? Good! Let's get on with the oath swearing, shall we? Harry, if you would stand over there?"

I moved in front of him, and dropped to my knees. I offered him my wand above my head, eyes cast down.

"I, Severus Snape, offer you, Harold James Potter, my oath as _Fidus Servus_."

Following Albus's prompting, Potter place his right hand on my wand and said, "I, Harold James Potter, accept your oath."

The wand tingled in my hands, sending streaks of energy through my body. I knelt there for a while, recovering, until Albus urged me to my feet.

"Well, best send you through right away then. Mr Weasley and Miss Granger are already there, Harry."

I was firmly escorted to the portal and pushed through. The end of one life, and the beginning of another. Things would never be the same again.


	2. Weasley Encounters

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment. 

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A/N:  Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! You inspire me to continue. To answer a few questions:

– I hope to update about twice a week. 

– Yes, it will probably be similar in tone to 'a biddable man', but I would only hope it to be that good. 

– I am part of the (very small) minority who believes that Voldemort knowing about Severus is already cannon ("One, who I believe has left me for ever… he will be killed, of course"). In this story, he was never a spy in the second war.

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**Chapter 2: Weasley Encounters**

I stumbled into a living room, and was met by Weasley's _charming _voice: "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Clearly, I have come to slice you all into a stew as a birthday present for the Dark Lord, Weasley. I'd thank..."

Before I could continue, Mr. Potter stepped into the room behind me. I had managed to forget my 'altered circumstances', but his presence served as a sharp reminder. I turned to him rather grimly. No guesses as to whom he would support in this argument. 

But he didn't mention the interaction with Weasley.

"You can take the room at the far end of the corridor. Why don't you go unpack so long?"

I half bowed, not trusting myself to speak, and set off in the indicated direction. It was just as well he hadn't said anything. If he thought I was going to be voluntarily obsequious to the other two spokes of the tripod, he was utterly delusional. I'd obey his orders, but anything else…

The memory of Albus's words drifted through my head: _'…devote your whole mind and soul to this new service…'_

_Damn_ the man. Curse his soul to the depths of the lowest hells. How _dare_ he? 

I unpacked my bags, my whole body shaking. Everything was placed into position with the utmost care lest I break something. 

At last I collapsed into a chair, drained. I had to get a hold of myself – I couldn't let Mr. Potter see me in this condition. At least my eyes were dry. I hadn't cried in more years than I could remember, and I was not about to start now, no matter how dismal my prospects. Eighteen years behind; one hundred or more ahead… I sternly reminded myself not to think about the future. One day at a time – it was the only way I managed to continue. And it was time to get on with that continuing. With 'my whole mind and soul'.

I followed the voices to what appeared to be a study, and quietly knocked on the door. After a pause, Mr. Potter's rather startled voice asked me to enter.

"I have finished unpacking, Mr. Potter."

I braced myself, and turned to Weasley. I had done harder things before; I could do this.

"Mr. Weasley. I ask your pardon for my words earlier. They were uncalled for and discourteous. I'm afraid I have some bad habits from our earlier acquaintance, but I can assure you, it will not happen again."

His face took on an even more stupid expression than usual. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself asking whether he was attempting to catch flies. Perhaps I had given that assurance too rapidly.

Without taking his eyes form me, he whispered over to Mr. Potter, as if he wasn't still perfectly audible to me.

"Um… Harry? Exactly what oath did Snape swear to you?"

"Fidas serbas, or something like that."

"_Fidus Servus_?" Weasley's voice hit the upper registers.

"That sounds about right. Why?"

I was entertained by the sight of Weasley going a sickly shade of green. I admit I had been expecting something more along the lines of gleeful laughter.

The oath wouldn't have been covered in school, but all the older families would have been familiar with it. It was powerful enough to for its continual usage to be assured, although it was never very common. The oath suffered from one major flaw – it wore thin without physical proximity between the two participants. A separation of as little as forty-eight hours could break it entirely. 

"Well, that's a fairly… dramatic oath, Harry," piped up Little-Miss-Know-It-All.

"Huh?"

I took it from that inelegant grunt that the Headmaster hadn't deigned to inform Mr. Potter of the full meaning of our new relationship. How _delightful_. Even after all he had done to me, I had not thought Albus Dumbledore would be cruel enough to me as to send Mr. Potter into this situation blind. Especially after ensuring that I could not take advantage of his ignorance.

The other two were quick enough to remedy the situation.

"Well, he'll obey your orders. Even the 'reach into a burning fire' kind."

"Or even the 'crawl over here on hands and knees' kind." 

Trust Weasley to be thinking along those lines. For pure vindictiveness, Weasley would have made a good Slytherin. Of course, he lacked the subtlety to actually make it effective.

"Professor Snape?" asked Mr. Potter.

"Was that an order, sir?" I kept my face expressionless. As always, I would not allow anyone the satisfaction of seeing my emotions.

"No! Ummm… but you'd obey it if it was?"

"Yes, sir." It wasn't as if I'd have much choice in the matter, was it?

"You accepted some-one's oath without first finding out the implications of it? Honestly, Harry, I would have thought that all these years would have taught you a little caution, if not responsibility…"

"But that's what I have you for, Hermione.  And you do such a good job of keeping us out of trouble, too."

This cloying scene was going to defeat the best of my intentions, and I didn't have an excessive supply of those. I cleared my throat. 

Mr. Potter turned to me as if he was surprised I was even in the room.

"Will Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger be staying for supper?"

"I don't know. Are you?"

"Sorry, Harry, but not today. I wish we weren't leaving you alone so soon, but we promised Ron's mother we'd join her tonight."

"Shall I serve dinner at seven, then, Mr. Potter?" 

"Um, yeh, okay." 

Ah, the eloquence of youth. I conducted a hasty retreat, and went in search of the kitchen. Despite the circumstances, cooking would never be a menial task to me. With any luck, it would settle my nerves a bit. I hated been this close to being out of control.  And it would be interesting to see what Albus considered to be appropriate supplies. Probably a lifetime's supply of muggle candy.


	3. An Evening for Two

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment. 

A/N:  Reviewers have my undying gratitude. Some replies to questions: 

- I will only be writing in Severus's POV, but we will learn more about Harry's thoughts in later chapters.

- All plot related questions… wait and see. *evil grin*.

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Chapter 3: An Evening for Two 

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Surprisingly, the kitchen was well stocked and provided me with plenty of material for my art. I had just finished laying out the last dish by the time Mr. Potter entered the room. He took one look at the table before turning to me with a set expression. Despite myself, I checked the table again, wondering what I had done wrong.

"Sn…Prof…What am I supposed to call you?"

"Whatever you wish, Mr. Potter."

My commitment to this arrangement didn't include providing ammunition to be used against me. We stood in silence for a moment while he thought it over. 

"Severus, then."

That wasn't an answer I had been expecting. I had been hoping for 'Snape' – it was nice and neutral, and he had used it before. I had been waiting for something more along the lines of 'boy'. But 'Severus'? That was something altogether more… intimate.

"Severus, I refuse to eat alone at this table while there is some-body else in the apartment. Please set a place for yourself." 

"Mr. Potter, that would hardly be appropriate…"

"This oath thing means that I am in charge here, not so?"

"Yes, sir." 

"Then I get to decide what is appropriate and what isn't. Please set a place for yourself."

I couldn't fault his logic, but I did feel he was adapting to the situation rather more rapidly than was fair. I turned to the cabinet and fetched down another set of crockery and cutlery. 

We served ourselves – I had no idea yet what Mr. Potter did or didn't like, and so had provided a diverse array of foodstuffs for him to choose from. He obliged by taking a little of everything, with seemingly no preferences. He couldn't really have such eclectic tastes, surely? He was probably doing it just to confound me. I limited myself to a selection of the blander foods.  

"Has Professor Dumbledore told you what we will be doing with our time?"

"No, sir."

"Of course not. Why do I even ask? Dumbledore, tell some-one what's going on?"

That sounded like a comment I might have made, except without the pessimism. I replied in kind.

"Well, I don't know, Mr. Potter. Miracles do happen."

He grinned, the tension leaving his face for a second. Whatever else you could or couldn't say about the man, he had a large amount of personal magnetism.

"I'll be spending my days at the Institute of Higher Magic. I'll take a few courses, but they've also set aside a training hall for me to practice battle skills."

I nodded. It would hardly be a unique arrangement for them, and the institute had as many halls and laboratories as it choose to have. The institute did not insist any path of study. It did not offer degrees or diplomas. It had no permanent body of students or staff. It simply provided the facilities for qualified instructors and interested students to meet. Like many wizards, I had both taken and given my fair share of courses over the years.

"Dumbledore wants you to come with me. It does make sense. And not just because of the oath."

Ah, so Weasley and Granger had informed him of that part of the oath, as well. 

"The institute is warded, but it is still a reasonably public place. I'd like to have you there to watch my back. Besides, there's nothing for you to do here."

As little as I wanted to watch him mangle more fields of study, he did have a point. And it wasn't as if he was required to explain anything to me.

"And after that?"

"Back here. My friends can visit me, but I'm not allowed to go to them, or out anywhere for that matter. 'Too dangerous'. Do you know where Hogwarts is? Physically, I mean?"

"Actually, I do. Why?" I wouldn't usually have asked, but this non sequitur took me aback.

"It just occurred to me – I'll be living in this apartment, which only Dumbledore knows the location of, training at the institute, which only the council knows the location of, and passing through Hogwarts to get there, which half the world seems to know the location of, except me. I'm never going to know where I am."

"Sounds like a pretty normal state of mind for you."

The comment hung in the air before I had even realised I had said it. I was doing my best to be respectful, but who could resist an opening like that? I held my breath. But Mr. Potter didn't seem offended or irritated. Instead, he laughed.

"True enough."

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke again in an entirely serious tone.

"Severus, why are you here?"

"The headmaster…"

"No. Why are _you_ here?"

"To atone for my sins." 

The words slipped out before I could stop myself. This was a part of my life I had only ever spoken about with the headmaster. I looked away, certain he would laugh. Instead, he reached over and captured my cheek with his hand. Touch was not normally a comfort I allowed myself. But it had been a long and stressful day – I must confess that I rather luxuriated in the contact. 

"And have you found peace?"

"Not yet."

After a long moment, he removed his hand and returned to eating. I spent the rest of the meal staring determinedly at my plate.

"Have you finished rearranging your food, Severus?"

His tone was amused, but undemanding. I could never eat much when I was anxious – it was the process of cooking I enjoyed, not the product. Few people ever noticed, and I hadn't been expecting Mr. Potter to be one of them. I fought down my embarrassment.

"Yes, sir."

****

"Then I'll say good night. We have an early start tomorrow."

"Good night, Mr. Potter."

I activated the charm that would cause the dishes to clean themselves and return to their places in the cabinet. An expensive set for someone just out of school, but then again, this was Harry Potter – he almost certainly hadn't had to pay for them. I made my way to my own room, and prepared for bed.

After about an hour of staring at the ceiling, I got up again. It was clear that I wouldn't be getting much sleep that night. I picked up a book, and quietly made my way to the living room. 

I activated the lights, and was startled by a voice.

"Severus?"

"Mr. Potter. I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were in here." Usually, one didn't have to check for people sitting in the dark.

Disappointed, I turned to leave.

"You don't have to go, Severus. Come sit." He patted the couch next to him.

"That's quite all right, Mr. Potter…"

"Severus. Come sit." This time it was an order. I made my way to the couch and perched precariously on the end of it. Why I had to join him was a mystery to me – there were many other perfectly functional chairs in the room.

After it was clear that he had no intention of talking, I opened my book and attempted to start reading. But Mr. Potter wasn't involved with anything. He was just sitting there. Looking at me. I kept my eyes fixed on the page, but I could feel him there. I read the same paragraph over and over, but I couldn't get it to make sense.

"You're not reading."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, I find it hard to read with you staring at me like that," I snapped.

"Then why don't I read to you instead?"

Why didn't he _what_? It was official. Harry Potter had finally become insane. 

He reached over and took the book out of my unresisting fingers. Before I could protest, he started reading from the beginning of the chapter. Well, at least he did have a very pleasant reading voice. The whole thing was an odd experience. No one had read to me since I was old enough to remember.  It was surprisingly soothing.

After some time, the voice stopped, and I blinked open my eyes. I hadn't fallen asleep, surely? Not with someone else in the room. I couldn't have. Mr. Potter was looking at me with barely concealed amusement.

"That's enough, I think."

He stood up and offered me my book back. I rose with him. To my horror, I was blushing. 

"Good night, Severus."

"Good night, Mr. Potter."


	4. And so Begins Training

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment. 

A/N:  Over fifty reviews! Thank you, thank you! 

- Some advice wanted – given Sevter's reaction to the first chapter, should I have more warnings in the summary? And if so, what?

- There'll be a little more angst and a lot more fluff for my boys – and sex when they're both ready for it *grin*.

- I'm looking for a beta (somebody who could tell me what's wrong with this chapter would be a godsend!). If you're interested, please email me – amber_and_ash@yahoo.com.

Chapter 4: And So Begins Training 

Breakfast went well, both of us eating a reasonable amount, and we arrived at the institute without complications. After we had been signed in and scanned for disallowed objects, we made our way to the office of Mr. Potter's advisor. 

"Ahh, Mr. Potter. And this is?"

"Severus Snape. My… bodyguard."

"Please to meet you, Mr. Snape. Will you be taking any of the courses with Mr. Potter?"

I looked at Mr. Potter, who shrugged. 

"If it doesn't interfere with my duties, I would like to, yes."

"Well, then. Let's see what we can arrange. Now, Mr. Potter, what type of courses are you looking for?"

 "I need to improve my battle skills, so let's see what's available for DADA and duelling. And I'd like a physical course of some description. I'm already pretty good on a broom, but I'd like to be a lot more dexterous on the ground."

"Hmm, that's quite a wide field, really. We'll have to be selective."

He brought out pages of lists, and we started working our way through them.

"Basic Jinxes and Hexes: Your Friends Won't Know What Hit 'Em?"   I asked, in a completely serious tone.

"Thank you, Severus, but I think we can go with something a little more advanced. 143 Ways to Skin a Cat, by Canus Violentus," he read in retaliation. "Please tell me he's being metaphorical."

We all shuddered. "I wouldn't count on it."

"Here's one by Lockhart…" I announced helpfully. I'd forgotten how much fun this could be.

"No."

"Apparently, he's much better…"

"No."

Before I could tease him any further, the advisor spoke up.

"How about this one – the Interrelation of All Disciplines in Defence, by Jovis Follis."

We all paused. 

"That one has definite possibilities. Put it on the list."

By the end of the morning, even I had to admit we had pretty good set of courses. 'Wandless Combat' as Mr. Potter's physical option, 'Impenetrable Wall: Beyond Just a Shield Charm',  'Increasing the Power of your Casts', and of course, 'The Interrelation of All Disciplines in Defence'.

The last was the only one that ran that day. 'Impenetrable Wall' and 'Casts' hadn't started yet, and 'Wandless Combat' only ran three times a week for beginners. We made our way to the lecture hall. The lecturer bounded over to us, shaking our hands and gushing sickeningly over Potter. Eventually we escaped to our seats.    

"Today, we'll be covering the use of potions. You may not know this, but we have a very talented Potions brewer in our very midst – Mr. Snape!" 

Every person turned around and looked at me. I scowled, keeping as much of my face as humanly possible hidden behind my hair. The lecture Mr. Follis gave was both simple and simplistic – if you had an entire potions store on hand as he seemed to think you would, you wouldn't be in an emergency defence situation. I was growing increasingly irritated, cursing my inability to simply walk out. But the crowning moment of stupidity happened towards the end of the lecture.

"And you can then take Calming Potion, and At Speed Potion, which is restricted but you can usually get a supply…"

"Take them at the _same time_?" I asked in complete disbelief.

"Why yes, Mr. Snape. Why not?"

"Because if you want to commit suicide, there are far less painful ways available."

"Oh, is it dangerous to mix them?" 

_'Oh, is it dangerous to mix them?' _And they let this fool _teach_?

"Yes, you incompetent, irresponsible, ham-fisted excuse for a…"   

"Severus, that's enough!"

That was an order. I fought the oath in an attempt to continue, but it was useless. I was eventually forced to stop trying to speak in order to breathe again.

"Apologise to the man."

"My apologies, Mr. Follis." My tone remained neutral, even as my nails clawed grooves into my thighs. 

"Oh, that's all right. It's nice to see some-one enthusiastic about their art for a change!"

The blithering idiot was practically bouncing in mindless cheer.

"All right, class, you can then take Calming Potion or At Speed Potion, _but not both, _…"

I fumed silently for the rest of the lecture. Mr. Potter had decided it necessary to put a restraining hand on my arm. I glared at it, wishing that the rumours about my abilities to burn holes were actually true. As we walked out of the lecture, I turned to Mr. Potter, but he spoke immediately.

"Not now. Wait until we get home."

We made our way back to the apartment in tense silence. As soon as we crossed the threshold, I spoke up.

"That, Mr. Potter, was completely unnecessary. That fool should be sent to Azkaban for teaching that load of nonsense; a few harsh words from me were hardly an overreaction. Or does your cute and fuzzy little Gryffindor soul compel you to jump in and save even the guilty? Besides, my actions were not affecting you in any way, so how I chose to react was none of your business. I really had more respect for you, Mr. Potter, than to think you would enforce your will in such a brutal and gratuitous manner…" 

I paused to take a breath.

"Are you quite done?"

"You scolded me like an errant child. In _public_!"

"Severus, no-one could hear me. Only you and I know that your actions weren't of your own free will."

Thinking back on it, he was right – he had been speaking in an undertone directly in my ear. But still…

"But you had _no reason_ to…"

"Go and make supper, Severus. We will continue this conversation later."

I made supper angrily, not taking my usual satisfaction from it. I couldn't bring myself to ruin it on purpose, but I was sorely tempted to. If not to simply add some untraceable poisons. 

Mr. Potter was, irritatingly, noticeably calmer by the time he came through. I joined him at the table under duress, but didn't bother to serve myself. He ate in merciful silence, pausing only during his third helping. 

"Wow, I hadn't realise I was this hungry!"

"Perhaps you should eat lunch in the future." 

It was hard to maintain rage for long, but I was still by no means ready to concede defeat. But Mr. Potter didn't seem upset by my tone.

"What, didn't I have lunch today?" 

"No, Mr. Potter, you didn't."

"Ah. We make quite a pair, then. You remember the meals and I eat them." 

Touché. 

At last he finished his meal and stood up. Time for the rest of the 'conversation'. I couldn't believe, after all this time and all that had happened between us, that I still felt like a kid dragged before his Head of House – equal parts resentment and trepidation.

"Severus, you knew this was going to be hard when Dumbledore first got you into this situation – it shouldn't have surprised you now. I appreciate that we are both going to have problems with this as time goes on. But hear me, Severus – whatever your personal views, while you are in my service, you will be pleasant."

I made a non-committal noise. 'Service', of course, was the key word – I could not in good faith deny him. But I wasn't sure I _could_ obey him. And I certainly didn't want to.

"Severus. Do you understand me?"

"I've never been much good at that," I muttered at last, embarrassed.

"What?"

"Getting people to like me."

"Oh, Severus." He stood in silence for a while. "I just want you to make the effort. Go get some sleep."

He walked out without wishing me goodnight.


	5. Viewpoints and Strategies

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Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment. 

A/N:  Thank you for the reviews – I can't tell you how much they mean to me. But I can tell you they inspire me to update! :) 

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**Chapter 5: Viewpoints and Strategies**

The next day, Mr. Potter and I kept interaction to a minimum. Breakfast was somewhat rushed - Wandless Combat was in the 'before work' time-slot, and as first-timers we were asked to be there half-an-hour early. We did, however, find time to stop past his advisor on the way in. 

"We're dropping out of Interrelated Disciplines. It isn't… as rigorous as I require."

Translation – the idiot could get me killed.  Hmmm. This was a definition of the word 'pleasant' I just might be able to cope with. I relaxed, realising for the first time how tense I had been about the matter. At least Mr. Potter had the common sense to regard me above that … person. 

"Well, yes, that can happen. Do you know what you want to replace it with yet?" 

"Not yet. We'll come back to you later."

We had to leave almost immediately to make it to Wandless Combat on time. Typically, Mr. Potter was immediately recognised as we walked in.

"Ahh, Harry Potter, I'm so pleased to have you in this class. I used to work with Bill Weasley, and any honorary Weasely is a friend of mine."

Mr. Potter's face lit up. Sometimes, just sometimes, I understood why others took to him so easily.

"This is Severus Snape, my bodyguard."

"I'm Agilis Lethum. Pleased to meet you. So, you'll want to be trained to work as a team, as well as individuals?"

"That would be very helpful," I replied. Pleasant, I told myself. And it had been a useful suggestion.

"Great! You have no idea how gratifying it is to have students who are serious about learning to survive. Now, you'll want to train in the clothes you wear everyday, because that's what you'll most likely have to fight in. But if I may make suggestions about what to wear everyday?"

We were both in standard robes and cloaks – mine black, Mr. Potters dark green. We looked at each other, puzzled. He wasn't going to suggest muggle clothing, was he?

"Go ahead."

"Well, firstly, you might want to consider buying Adamantine Vests – the lighter ones are on the expensive side, but magic isn't the only thing that can kill or incapacitate you. And I suggest you take a look at the new duelling robes at Madame Malkin's - some of them are tasteful enough to wear at all times without looking out of place. As far as your cloaks go, you have a choice. A heavy cloak you can stock with everything known to man, or a light cloak that won't encumber you in battle. The colours you are wearing are fine – you don't want to wear anything that will make you easy to aim for. Take a look around Madam Malkin's, you don't want to make decisions too quickly. Remember though – the most expensive equipment will be of no value to you if it's neatly hanging in your cupboard when you get attacked."

That – was something to think about. I usually carried some useful objects on me, but I hadn't ever approached it that systematically. We were then shown around the hall, and he was just finishing off by the time the rest of the class arrived. 

The lesson was about using instinctive reactions where it was useful, and retraining them where it was not. It was about always operating with clear aims and priorities. The physical workout we were getting seemed almost incidental.

"You won't have time to think when something happens. So think _now_."

As an instructor, Mr. Lethum was…passable. Certainly, he was far in advance of what the majority of the students deserved. They were more frivolous than first year Hufflepuffs.  

He dismissed the class, and stayed on to 'chat' with Mr. Potter.

"What other courses are you taking?"

" 'Impenetrable Wall' and 'Increasing the Power of your Casts'. We've time for one more, but we haven't decided on one yet."

"Have you ever thought about trying invocations? I have a friend who would be more than happy to provide a course for you."

"Invocations?" 

"Calling on other spirits to aid you. You first tempt a spirit to be your _genius personae_. You then have to set up a fairly good relationship with them so that they will be inclined to answer your call. Which isn't always easy, apparently. They can be very … different. A lot of people think they're more trouble than they're worth, but when it does work out, they can make remarkable allies."

"Severus, what do you think?"

Good boy – not taking the word of some one he had just met, no matter how pleasant they seemed.

"Albus has one he calls upon occasionally, I know. Lucius Malfoy tried at one stage, but his ended up sabotaging him more often than it helped him. The ceremonies to sever the ties were apparently very messy. I think it would be a big decision to call for one, but it won't do any harm to learn the theory behind it. As long as it's arranged through the institute."

"Of course!"

"Yes, then, thank you, that would be wonderful."

I was even more impressed when Mr. Potter paused to write a friendly letter to Bill Weasely, casually asking him about Lethum.

"Some things are best done immediately," he said as he released it to an owl.

After lunch, which I had brought with, it was time for Harry to participate in his first Friday afternoon strategy meeting. It was held in a small sitting room in a sealed portion of Hogwarts. They made strained small talk while we waited for everyone to arrive. I could stay silent and still be 'pleasant', surely. At the appointed time, Mundungus Fletcher cleared his throat. The aides and I got up to wait outside while the 'sensitive information' was being discussed. 

"Severus, where are you going?"

"I wasn't invited to this meeting, Mr. Potter." I never had been. It didn't worry me much - let them play at their secret clubs, I knew where the real work got done. 

"Why ever not?"

"Why, Harry, I know it's hard to believe, but Snape used to be a death eater, and…" 

I could have told him that the patronising tone wasn't a good idea. Even as a teacher, I only used it when I _wanted_ Mr. Potter to rebel. But I still didn't expect his reaction.

"Well, I have to tell you people I trust Severus a whole lot more than I trust you.  I'm afraid I'm just not comfortable sitting in a room full of people I barely know without backup. Call me when you have something you are prepared to discuss with us both." 

He swept out of the room, leaving me with no choice but to follow. The tone had been perfectly amiable, but the words…

"Mr. Potter, do you really think that was wise…"

"Do you want to be a puppet for those people?"

"No."

"Neither do I."

Comprehension slowly dawned.

"And if they come to you on your terms, you've re-established the balance of power. That's almost…Slytherin."

"Thank you."

"But what if they don't come to you?"

"Then I fight Voldemort alone. It won't be the first time." He shrugged. "They'll come. What choice do they have?"

Well. It seemed Mr. Potter also knew where the real work was done. I'd been underestimating him. 

The day hadn't been the torture I'd been dreading. It had actually been quite...pleasant. I gave up trying to work out what Mr. Potter liked eating, and simply served something I enjoyed. Dinner was quiet, but surprisingly relaxed. 

 "Why don't you bring your book through to the living room? I want to find out what happens next."


	6. Deserving

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment. 

A/N :    My real life is in complete chaos. In two months or so (luck permitting) it should settle down, and I'll be able to update regularly again. Until then I'll update when I can, but don't expect too much. Sorry, everyone! 

            Once again, your reviews keep me going. Thank you.

------------------------------------------------- Chapter 6: Deserving 

****

****

The weekend passed surprisingly peacefully. We picked a new book when we finished the first. Mr. Potter even expressed an interest in the more sophisticated techniques of cooking, and made a few meals under my supervision. We also took the time to buy our new robes. 

Mr. Potter, of course, was not allowed to simply walk into Madame Malkin's and browse her selection. Instead we were 'treated' to a long-distance fashion show. Once again, I wondered who was paying for all of this. Possibly Madame Malkin herself  - the commercial advantage of 'buy the very same robe as HARRY POTTER!'

We settled on some of the more tasteful options. I chose a cloak that I could keep a decent supply of potions in; Mr. Potter decided on a light one. He claimed it gave the pair of us the best of both worlds. I told him it was a symbol of his reckless attitude to getting into trouble. He conceded it might be both. 

It was amazing how quickly we fell into a daily routine. Mr Potter received a letter confirming Mr. Lethum's story, and the invocation classes were set up for three weeks later. The other classes went much as expected. 

We waited a bit anxiously to hear from Fletcher, but on the next Friday we had a note asking if he could come and speak to Mr. Potter _and_ I. 

"Congratulations, Mr. Potter."

"Wait until we see whether I can maintain the new power balance," he replied grimly.

We awaited him in a different sitting room – Mr. Potter had felt it best to keep to neutral ground. Just the top stooges arrived for this meeting, with their supporting cast of aides. They all did their best to pretend I didn't exist without actually being rude enough to irritate Mr. Potter, which suited me perfectly. 

Fletcher performed an interesting dance for a few minutes in an attempt to cut Mr. Potter away from me. Mr. Potter simultaneously, but far less obviously, stepped to prevent that from happening. Eventually, after some speeches from the mutual admiration society, he gave up and got to the point.

"We need your help. There's a magic drain that's been affecting a few towns. We know where it is, but our search wasn't exactly – official."

Some law breaking by the keepers of the law. Why was I not surprised? Still, the laws they had broken were the type that could be bought. Ah, the benefits of wealth and influence in practicing on the wrong side of the fence. 

"While as far as we can tell it has nothing to do with You-Know-Who, it does need to be dealt with soon – cleaning up after it is taking up far too much of our operative's time. We can sneak one or two people in without alerting anyone important, but no two of our operatives are powerful enough to disrupt this thing. You are. And I suppose Snape might be of some assistance." 

I had to bite my tongue to avoid making a scathing comment. Maybe I could renegotiate 'pleasant' to only apply to people who weren't actively trying to stab me in the back.

"Yes, it is fortunate that we have some-one of Severus's calibre on our side."

I had to conceal a start. Mr. Potter sounded so sincere – not a single trace of sarcasm or offence in his tone. But I _knew_ he wasn't so naïve that he had not realised Fletcher was being insulting.

Fletcher wasn't as successful on concealing his reaction. Mr. Potter 'innocently' asked him if he needed a glass of water. One of his aides interjected to offer Mr. Potter the plans, which gave Fletcher some time to recover his composure. 

Mr Potter read the plans and passed them to me, seemingly oblivious to everyone's disapproving expressions. The plans were actually quite good. I suspected it wasn't Fletcher who'd come up with them. Moody, perhaps, they had his blend of paranoia and audacity. We weren't going to be sneaking in through a window in the dead of night while all the alarms and defences were up. No, we were walking straight through the front door in broad daylight, dressed as muggle tourists. We would use no magic except to actually destabilise the device. There was an abundance of checkpoints, contingency plans, and emergency port-keys. Well, they couldn't afford to lose Mr. Potter.

He raised his eyebrows. I half-shrugged and nodded.

"All right, we accept. It will be a good field test of how well we work together."

 The plans became reality the very next day with few complications. An over enthusiastic guide tried to hit on Mr. Potter, but he very gently, and without haste, let her know that his interests didn't lie in her gender. I approved – always act as naturally as possible when doing some-thing clandestine, it's the easiest personality to fake. 

The device was, if anything, more stable than they had told us. I pushed at its field, but I could barely rock it. Then Mr. Potter's forces joined mine. No amount of practice could have prepared me for the impact of Mr. Potter at full strength. It was like trying to surf a geyser. I appreciated for the first time just how much restraint he usually operated with. With a wrench I focused my mind on disrupting the thing. A few seconds later it was completely unusable, and we slipped away from the building as quickly as possible. 

To celebrate the small victory, Mr. Potter invited Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to dinner. It made sense that he would want to share the experience with them, and it wasn't as if I needed someone to 'share my joy' with. I cooked a rather more elaborate meal than usual – the 'training wheels' would have no cause to be insulting of me.

They retired to Mr. Potter's study as soon as they arrived, which gave me the privacy to finish up.  I had just set up the dining room when Mr. Potter walked in.

"Severus," he said gesturing at the three places in disapproval.

"What? You won't be eating alone."

He couldn't honestly be expecting me to join them, could he?

"No I won't. And you will be joining us."

****

He was. It wasn't completely unheard of for a _Fidus Servus _to join the table in more casual settings, but it wasn't as if Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger would appreciate my company.

****

"Please, Mr. Potter. Don't make me do this."

"Severus, I do not expect you to become best buddies with Ron and Hermione over the mashed potatoes. I simply expect you to sit with us and be civil."

Before I had a chance to reply, he was joined by Weasley and Weasley-to-be. I finished setting the table, and brought the food through in complete silence.

"You let him eat at the table?" 

"Of course he eats at the table. Really, Ron, how could you ask something like that?" 

Miss Granger was so determined not to treat me as a 'servant' that she was actually more offensive than Mr. Weasley.

I said as little as possible during the meal. Luckily, between Mr. Weasley jealous volubility and Miss Granger's sniping condescension, my lack of contribution wasn't noticeable. We were eventually finished and I was looking forward to escaping from this little display of adolescent insecurity.

"Smashing meal, Harry."

"Yes, Severus is an excellent cook."

"Ooh, 'Severus' is it. So, is he as good at you-know-what?"

"What?"

Mr. Potter sounded mystified, but I had been around him too long to accept this innocence at face value. I took a sip of water to prevent myself from saying anything Mr. Potter would regret.

"Ow! What was that for, Hermione?"

Mr. Weasley reached down indignantly to rub his shin. Good girl.

"What are you talking about?" 

"Come on, you mean you haven't taken him yet?" 

"Ronald Weasley! I cannot believe your are encouraging Harry to _rape_…"

"It isn't rape, Hermione!"

"Oh, no?"

The glass I was holding shattered. Everyone stopped talking and turned to stare at me.

"May I be excused, Mr. Potter?"

Somehow I managed to ask in measured tones.

"Of course."

I fled to my room and slid down into a corner. 

Rape. Such an ugly word. An even uglier action. Memories of watching, doing nothing, while… memories of walking away from rooms knowing… I watched as the blood from my hand eventually stopped trickling.

"Severus? They've gone."

I didn't move. 

"Severus, about what Ron said…"

Mr. Potter was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. I guess that sometimes he _was_ as innocent as he appeared. At length I realised I would have to speak.

"I'm sorry I reacted so badly. Mr. Weasley is correct. It is part of my duty. Should you choose to make use of that privilege, neither I, nor anyone else will object. And it's no more than I deserve."

"I won't do that to you."

"Of course you wouldn't." Of course he wouldn't. "Who would want to touch me? I'm ugly and dirty and…"

"Severus!" 

I was in no condition to maintain my usual control, and I cringed away from his anger. I hadn't meant my comments to be insulting – surely that would count for something? Mr. Potter took a few deep breaths and began again in s strangely gentle tone.

"Firstly, I meant that I won't do anything you don't want to do. No matter what happened in the past, no one, and that includes you, _deserves_ to be raped. And secondly, you're not ugly. You're beautiful."

And I had thought I would never cry again.


	7. Blood

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment. 

A/N: 

-reviews: Over a hundred! Wow! Thank you so much for your support and advice, I do find them incredibly useful.

-updating: Thank you all for your patience, I know it's been a very long break. And for how my life is going…  I have a job, I have a job (does little happy dance). In celebration, here's an update! I don't know what my new schedule will be like, but I *promise* I will eventually finish this fic. Thanks to all the reviewers – your reminders worked! 

-still looking for a beta. Please e-mail me if you're interested: amber_and_ash@yahoo.com.

-with reference to warnings – I personally don't think my Dumbledore was very out of character – take the scene when he confronts the fake Moody, and the way he regularly overrides Severus in public. I was more worried that my Harry or Severus are OOC, or that I ought to warn that (mild) sub/dom issues are handled. 

-what's happening next: I'm afraid you'll stilljust have to wait and see *evil grin*.

-OotP: This story is AU from this book.  When I've finished re-reading it, I'll try a figure out what the differences are. 

Warning: This chapter is a little dark – some self-mutilation. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 7: Blood

I fell into an exhausted slumber soon after Mr Potter left, but after only a few hours, I woke up sweating. It was an effort to separate out the dream world from reality, and the horror clung to me. My emotions were swirling so fast that it felt like they were trying to burst out of my skin. I took a few deep breaths, trying to regain my equilibrium. At some point I had started rocking, but instead of being calming it was rapidly becoming frenzied. There were, however, ways of dealing with even this.

I moved to the bathroom, my hand once again steady. I took the razor blade to the inside of my right arm. Wouldn't want to get my dark mark all scarred, after all. It wasn't a lot of blood. More symbolic, really. But it was nonetheless satisfying.

By the time I went through to make breakfast, I had regained myself completely. Mr. Potter did look at me rather carefully, but we fell easily into our old routine. It wasn't until after a particularly physical Wandless Combat session that Mr. Potter started staring at me again. He turned to me just as I was adjusting my outer robe.

"Severus, what's that?"

Oh, Holy Merlin. One of the cuts had reopened and was staining my sleeve. How on earth did Mr. Potter have the ability to ignore the most obvious of potion instructions and yet notice such a small patch of blood? 

"Nothing to concern yourself with, Mr. Potter. A previous injury must have reopened."

"Let me see."

I cast around for an excuse he would accept, but his tone of voice warned me I was within seconds of being ordered. I cursed myself. After all these years I could not believe I had been that careless. But I would not discuss this in front of all these people and their morbid curiosity. I took a deep breath and prepared to humble myself.

"Please, Mr. Potter. Not here. It can wait for us to get home."

He stared into my eyes, his normal ingenuousness completely absent.

"Then we're heading home now."

Well, it had worked, but that was not the response I'd been looking for. Mr. Potter had never done anything like this before. He was taking a little bit of blood entirely too seriously.

"Really, Mr. Potter, skipping lectures? I must admit it's wonderful to see such dedication and responsibility in action once again, but..."

"Severus. Do you want to do this at home, or right here?"

"At home, sir," I muttered quietly.

"Then I suggest you remain silent until we arrive there."

I bit back my next response. Mr. Potter wasn't someone whose bluff it was a good idea to call. The way he had phrased that sentence was strangely familiar, but I couldn't place the connection. I shrugged off the small mystery. I had more important things to worry about. Not even Dumbledore had caught me in my little protective mechanisms.

We arrived home still caught up in that silence. Maybe if I just sneaked off to my room, Mr. Potter would forget about…

"Now, Severus, show me that arm."

Did I never deserve good luck?

I pushed up my sleeve as far as possible, which was mercifully only an inch or so. Without looking at Mr. Potter I gave him my arm. I still had no reasonable explanation other than the truth. I tried to predict his reaction. Disgust? Amusement?

He ran his finger over the two visible cuts.

"Show me the rest."

"The rest, sir?"

"Don't play stupid with me, Severus. Show me the rest." 

Ahh, anger then. Strange how that controlled coldness could be more frightening than a loud rage.

I stripped off my cloak, and then unbuttoned my shirt. The only way to see the rest of my arm was to remove it entirely. It wasn't cold, but I still shivered when I ended up half-naked in the middle of the lounge. 

"What?" I said after a tense minute of silence. "Mr. Potter, really, I hardly think my body is so enthralling that it needs such a detailed examination."

"This is not the first time you've done this," he commented almost clinically.

It didn't seem necessary to respond.

"But you won't be doing it again."

His casual certainty infuriated me.

"I won't, will I? And you, in your infinite power and goodness will prevent the evil man from desecrating his poor body. Because we can't have that, can we?" 

I paused to draw a breath, and raised my voice again.

"Might I remind you that it is not your personal duty to save every person on the planet? Might I remind you that this is _my_ body?"

"And might I remind you that _you_ are mine?"

I stared at him for a long moment before dropping my eyes and bowing deeply. Penance, service, servitude. Someone was not about to let me forget.

"Come with me, Severus." It was an order, the first he had given me without asking me having refused a normal request first. He was driving this particular lesson home rather  thoroughly .

He walked to our reading couch and sat down. Couldn't he have done – whatever it was he was planning on doing – somewhere else? I had… rather pleasant associations with that couch, and that wasn't common. 

"Severus, I'm not angry with you for what you did. I understand how it can be the lesser of two evils. But I want you to remember that you aren't alone here. You are my _Fidus_ Servus._ Whatever concerns you, concerns me, and I expect you to come to me when you are feeling like this."_

"Yes, sir," I replied insincerely.

"Severus. I mean it. Before you do anything like this again, you will come and speak with me first, is that understood?"

"You can't enforce that with the oath," I snapped back.

"Do I need to?"

The temperature in the room dropped again.

"No, sir."

"Good. Now sit down." 

He manoeuvred me until I was leaning against him, and then summoned the book and a blanket. It took me some time to accept that our little conversation was truly over, and even longer to forgive it. I sat stiffly, refusing to accept the usual comfort of this position. 

After half an hour, he slipped off the couch. Before I could think to get up, he had ordered me to stay put. A tense five minutes followed, as I tried to determine by sound what was going on. Finally he returned, holding – hot chocolate and ice-cream. What did I look like, five? Did I look like the kind of person who would appreciate hot chocolate and ice-cream? I consumed mine begrudgingly. 

Once we had finished, he resettled me in a lying position. He reached for my head, and I closed my eyes, suppressing my urge to flinch. It took me a minute to place what he was doing. He was playing with my hair! This was intolerable. I'd been downgraded from a child to a puppy. I huffed my discontent, but Mr. Potter blithely ignored me.

I'd have to suggest getting a bigger couch if we were going to be doing this on a regular basis.


	8. Invocations and Altercations

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment. 

A/N:  All reviewers are Gods. Mandi has agreed to Beta for me (bows down in worship), but all mistakes are probably still mine. 

------------------------------------------

Chapter 8 : Invocations and Altercations 

It was time for our first course in invocations. To my immense irritation, Ms. Granger had decided to join us. We met up at Hogwarts and made our way from there.

I had, of course, done some preliminary reading – showing up for a course unprepared wasted both the instructor's time and the student's. Ms. Granger, on the other hand, had consumed every text known to wizard-kind, and had apparently taken offence to all of it 

According to our Miss-inform-everyone-of-everything, Invocations made Divinations look like a precise science. It appeared there were as many taxonomies as there were researchers. Splitting the spirits up into elementals was quite a common choice, but it seemed some experts had randomly picked a pantheon of Gods, and fitted the spirits to it. Ms. Granger informed us of this fact at some length, and well past the point where even Mr. Potter had grasped the trend. 

Amica Vocare, our instructor, introduced herself, but before she could even begin her outline, Ms. Granger felt the need to question her about the matter. 

"Oh, I don't use any taxonomies. The spirits are individual beings, and trying to group them together is as pointless as trying to predict someone's behaviour based on their eye-colour. Really, you shouldn't believe everything you read, you know. "

Remarkable. That shut Ms. Granger up far more effectively than my years of oppressiveness ever had. Perhaps I could still learn more efficient ways of interaction. 

"The primary thing to remember is that spirits are both immortal and incorporeal. This explains almost every difference we have with them. For instance, their primary need isn't food, or safety, it is entertainment. Conversely, their greatest fear isn't death or abandonment, it is boredom. As such, 'things to do' are a major bartering item, as significant to them as food and shelter is to us."

Ms. Granger didn't dare ask another question, which was at least one relief. The lesson as a whole was disturbing. Not in a way that would lead us to suspect an involvement of the Dark Lord, but in a 'just out of the corner of your eye' way. It was like listening to two experts in another field, or hearing about sex as a child. Your brain accepted that what you heard ought to make sense, but the comprehensive meaning simply failed to come together. Ms. Granger was as frustrated as I, but she lacked my ability to conceal it. It gave me something to watch when the lecture became too dense.

Even more interesting to watch was Mr. Potter. He was obviously enthralled. His eyes glowed, and his whole body seemed on the point of leaping after the information. I felt a pang of regret. Why had I never been able to produce this kind of reaction in him? This picture of him – enthusiastic, passionate, intuitive – well, I understood now how he had accumulated such praise from his DADA teachers.

Then it was another Friday; another meeting with Mr Fletcher. And we were going to be late.  The old adage of 'you learn a new thing every day'? Today we had learned there was such a thing as being too successful at a shield charm.  A simple air-thickening charm, for instance, usually used to slow down projectiles. If it is cast with too much strength, it doesn't just make air dense, it turns it into a liquid. With all the characteristics of a liquid. Including weight. So when a certain Mr. Potter cast it above his head… And unfortunately it didn't simply evaporate back into the atmosphere.  Liquid it was, and liquid it would remain until all the residual magic energy dissipated. Which, given Mr. Potter's track record, could be months. 

I stuck my head around Mr. Potter's door. "Mr. Potter! It is now _seventeen_ minutes past the hour."

"I know, I know, I'm coming as fast as I can."

He walked out of the bathroom, towelling his hair, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. I couldn't tell if it was the quidditch, the wandless combat, or something else entirely, but I _could_ tell that his normal robes had been concealing a great deal. The Boy-Who-Lived had, most assuredly, grown up. And grown up in a very aesthetic manner. I turned away abruptly before he could catch me staring, and kept my eyes resolutely on the wall. 

"Was the potion successful?" 

"Yes, thank you Severus, I finally got that goo out. Man, was that stuff sticky. Now, what have I done with my clothes?"

I made a rapid escape back into the lounge and waited for him to join me. We arrived at the meeting out of breath and at a disadvantage.

"Mr. Fletcher. We apologise for keeping you waiting. We were unavoidably delayed." 

"Yes, well, Harry, this isn't a game, you know. Defeating Voldemort has to be our main priority. I know you're still young…"

"I am well aware of my responsibilities, Mr. Fletcher."

The meeting went downhill from there. If Mr. Fletcher had been intending to push Mr. Potter's buttons, I would have applauded him for his thoroughness. But the idiot was actually under the impression that he was 'guiding' Mr. Potter. Dumbledore was probably the only person in the world who could get away with acting paternally towards Mr. Potter, and his skill with manipulation was unmatched. Mr. Fletcher's skills in that area were considerably inferior to Mr. Potter. In fact, I doubted they even matched Ron Weasley's.

But Mr. Potter himself was showing strain. His instincts were there, but his control was sketchy. Well, he was still young, after all.

"So you see, Harry…"

"Mr Potter," he interrupted.

"I'm sorry?"

"Please call me Mr. Potter. We are not friends, and I would hope I have earned the right to be treated as an adult."

Mr. Fletcher stared at him in blank astonishment. I tensed, waiting for his reaction. This was a battle that should never have been fought. To Mr. Potter's fury, but my relief, Mr. Fletcher eventually smiled indulgingly.

"Of course you have, Har.. _Mister Potter_, of course you have."

I grabbed for Mr. Potter's arm before he could respond. It was enough to remind him to keep control. Mr. Potter conducted the rest of the meeting through clenched teeth, and wrapped it up as soon as possible. The look he gave me, however, was pure fury. Abruptly, I was reminded of my place. Damn it to hell. What in Hades had prompted me to get involved?

As soon as we were alone, I turned to Mr. Potter and sank into a deep bow.

"Forgive me for touching you without your permission, Mr. Potter. It was not my place to interfere." 

"No, it was not. But since you did, do you mind filling me in on why?"

"It seemed unnecessary to alienate Mr. Fletcher."

"_You_ are trying to tell _me_ that? And stand up properly, for Heaven's sake."

I straightened up, but kept my eyes on the floor. "I am not the Hero of the Wizarding World, Mr. Potter. These people would be my enemies regardless of how I treated them."

"How would you know? You never give anyone a chance before making up their mind for them."

"That… isn't the issue under discussion here, Mr Potter."

He sighed, and collapsed into a nearby chair. "No it isn't. You're right, Severus. I should not allow my emotions to affect my actions. I will endeavour to act with the same restraint you have been exercising."

I met his eyes in absolute bemusement._ I was to be his role-model in how to interact with people? God help us all._


	9. Birthday Celebrations

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment. 

A/N: I've been having 'middle of story' blues with this piece, I'm afraid. Thank you for all your patience with this! I'm still not happy with this chapter, but I promised to submit it today no matter what, so here it is. Enjoy!

Credits: The idea that long hair is a sign of adulthood in the wizarding world is nicked shamelessly from Gatewaygirl. It just makes too much sense not to be true. 

**Chapter 9 : Birthday Celebrations **

The next morning I woke up, dragging myself from the dream by strength of will. I was not a teenager. I would not allow myself to dream about a wet, naked Potter. My subconscious was simply picking images of him because I was around him so much. My appreciation of his lower back was entirely aesthetic. And the cold shower I took was solely to wake me up. 

It also gave me time to contemplate the next looming disaster. Albus, in all his glorious wisdom, had decided to throw Mr. Potter a birthday party. After practically keeping him locked away for weeks, Albus was now inviting everyone Mr. Potter knew to a 'soiree' at Hogwarts. I had been forced to concede that the security, still in place from when Mr. Potter had been a student, did seem to be sufficient. And Albus himself would be there with his immense presence. So Mr. Potter would get his birthday party, and I would accompany him. But I was not getting him a present. I was a servant. Servants do not get presents for their masters. It would be inappropriate. 

I took in a book to read during invocations, with the permission of Mr. Potter and the instructor, Madam Vocare. Despite being clearly uncomfortable, Miss Granger had decided to remain as a student. The arrogance of youth – I had long reconciled myself to not being skilled in all fields, and conserved my passion for where it would do the most good. It was a lesson Miss Granger would learn in time, if she survived that long. 

After the lesson, Miss Granger indulged in some shameless fishing for gift ideas. I listened in purely for the amusement factor. I was NOT getting Mr. Potter a present. Thankfully, she had to leave after a short time. I had planned a picnic lunch, and I did not want to have to share it with her. Mr. Potter had mentioned that he had never really had the opportunity for a picnic, so for lunch, we were having a full wizarding spread. 

We found a quiet spot on the grounds, and activated the blanket. We had some time before our next class, so I had brought along our book, and a music-ball. And of course all the traditional foods - quartered sandwiches, sliced fruits and vegetables with dips, salads, mini-sausages, mini-quiches, mini-pies, cold meats, cheesecake, fruit tarts, and so on. Mr. Potter showed such glee at each new container I opened that I shuddered to think how he was going to react to presents. 

Seven hells, I would get him a gift. But something practical; not some ridiculous sentimental outpouring of affection. I actually had an idea of what I wanted to give him - a hair ribbon. He had started growing his hair out, as was appropriate for a wizard his age, and, defying all logic, it was becoming even more unruly. Oh, he wouldn't need one of the industrial-strength ones I used, but he could do with a restrained formal one. Unfortunately, the best brand was the one the Malfoys used, but Mr. Potter would just have to live with the association. 

At the next Invocations class, my reading was interrupted by a squawk from Miss Granger. 

"That's wrong. You have to bind spirits first, otherwise they're just to unpredictable to deal with. Everyone knows that!" 

"Well, everyone is wrong." For the first time, I could hear actual antagonism in the instructor's voice. 

"The reason so many callings go wrong is because the caller lacks sufficient understanding for the spirits. Bound or unbound, if the offer is insufficient, the spirit will react badly. And the consequences for a bound relationship are far more long lasting." 

"You don't know that! You're just making this all up!" 

"Miss Granger! You're entitled to disagree with me, but please behave with some decorum in my class, or do not attend!" 

"Fine! I'll leave then. Coming, Harry?" 

"Actually, no. Look, Hermione, I'll talk to you later, all right?" 

"Well!" 

She swirled off, slamming the door behind her. 

The infamous Granger temper – so that's what it looked like. Mr. Potter apologised to Madam Vocare, his voice resigned. For this to blow up this close to his party was… unfortunate timing. 

We went home to prepare for the party. I might have reconciled myself to giving Mr. Potter a present, but I wasn't prepared to make a public spectacle of myself. Just before we were due to leave, I retrieved my gift from my bedroom. 

"Happy Birthday, Mr. Potter." I stood, stiffly uncomfortable, holding out my present to him. 

"Severus! Wow!" 

I didn't know whether to feel insulted or pleased that he showed such joy in simply receiving it. He sat down, and carefully unwrapped it. 

"It's charmed," I remarked, in case he hadn't realised. 

"This is great! Thank you! I'm going to put it in right now." 

After a few minutes passed without him reappearing, I looked in to see him still struggling. There was a trick to using enchanted ribbons, and Mr. Potter obviously hadn't caught on to it yet. 

"Here, Mr. Potter, let me help you with that." 

Seeing the look of relief on his face, I stepped forward, and took the ribbon from his fingers. I lay the ribbon across the palm of my hand, and gathered his hair loosely. It instantly calmed, allowing me to brush it into some sort of order with the other. I tied it off and spent a few seconds rearranging it before I realised I was making excuses to stay in contact. I backed off slowly, hoping he hadn't noticed. 

We completed the last preparations, and went through to Hogwarts. I hadn't realised how unused to large groups of people I had become. Not that it had ever been easy, but Albus had always allowed me to duck out of social engagements early. But now I could not wander off to 'patrol the grounds'. And they, knowing I no longer had any power over them, were more than willing to press in on me. 

After a few increasingly tense hours, Albus manoeuvred me out of the crowd and suggested I go keep an eye on what was happening outside. He would remain to keep an eye on Mr. Potter. I slipped out the side door, an action reminding me of the countless times I had done this very thing in this very hall. What was new, however, was Mr. Potter following me. I turned to face him, shoving my shaking hands behind my back. Unfortunately, Mr. Potter had already spotted them. 

"Severus, I think its time we went home." 

"Don't be silly, Mr. Potter. It's your birthday party, and you are clearly enjoying yourself." 

"But you aren't." 

I shrugged. When had that made any difference? 

"You go on ahead, and I'll make my goodbyes…" 

"Come, now, Mr. Potter, all of these people have come here for you. Are you really going to disappoint them by heading home this early?" 

"Well, I insist you go home then, at least, and I'll join you when I can." 

"Take your time. I don't need a babysitter." 

My tone was sharper than I intended it to be. Good intentions were a poor match for tension and long-ingrained habit. 

"Very well, Severus. You are excused." 

I bowed sharply, concealing my flinch. Within minutes I was safe in my room once again. I couldn't bring myself to concentrate on my book, and with Mr. Potter gone, there was precious little else to do in the apartment. I got ready for bed instead – an early night would probably do me good. I lay staring at the ceiling, trying to control my twitchiness. After half an hour, I gave up and got up again. 

I paced around. Damn it, I was not waiting for Mr. Potter to come home like a five year old sneaking into his parents' bedroom after a nightmare. I had dealt with this type of thing for longer than Mr. Potter had been alive. I didn't need him to hold my hand. How I dealt with my emotions didn't impact him in any way. 

I headed for the bathroom. 


	10. Bringing on the Darkness

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment. 

A/N: 

- Thank you for the wonderful reviews, especially those who took the time to comment on the good points and weak points in my story. I will be balancing the psychological realities of their situation with the needs of the story-line. I just hope that the story line is interesting enough that I am forgiven when I start wondering off into fantasy fulfilment. Hopefully the next story I write will be more genuine.

- Beta'd by Nikki! Thank you. 

**Chapter 10 : Bringing on the Darkness**

I heard Mr. Potter come back and the tension I hadn't even realised I had been holding drained from my body. I sank into proper sleep. The next morning I took extra care in bandaging my wrists to prevent a repeat of the previous occasion. The paranoia was familiar; the guilt took me by surprise. 

I served breakfast, keeping my eyes on my plate. 

"I'm sorry I stayed so late, Severus. Hermione, Ron and I got to talking and well, before I knew it, it was this morning! You know, I was worried about…" 

After playing go-between for Albus and the Dark Lord for such a long time, I was horrified to find myself startle when Mr. Potter looked at me. 

He broke off his sentence almost mid-word. 

"Severus. Show me your arm." 

"Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Potter. You were talking about Miss Granger?" 

"Severus, show me your arm, right now!" 

There was nothing for it but to comply. I rolled up my sleeve, and his face went absolutely blank. This wasn't good. In the time we had been together, Mr. Potter had only really given me two standing orders – to 'be pleasant', and not to cut myself. I hadn't really thought about the consequences of testing either. 

"Take them off." 

I stripped to the waist again and carefully unrolled the bandages. None of the cuts had reopened, I noted in relief. Mr. Potter would have one less thing to take offence to. 

"You've been scarring yourself," he noted analytically. 

"The scars will fade in a few days, Mr. Potter. And it isn't as if I don't have plenty of other scars on my body." 

"Severus, your battle scars pay homage to who you are, and what you've been through. These scars simply trivialise you. It's a way of hiding from the world, and hiding isn't a long-term solution, Severus. You need to open yourself up to the possibilities of relationships, both personal and romantic." 

I laughed. "It's all academic then isn't it? No one would be prepared to become involved with me, so it hardly matters what I do." 

"Don't give me that, Severus. How many people know you at all? Albus and I. And both of us value our relationships with you." 

"Don't lie to me, Mr. Potter. If the Headmaster hadn't ordered you to take me, you wouldn't be prepared to give me the time of day!" 

"Yes. That was before you were forced to let me know you. Now, I can say without hesitation that you are rapidly becoming the most important person in my life." 

I snorted in disbelief. 

"You need to decide what you want, Severus. When you decide to live again, I would be more than happy to see if we could build a life together. Or wave you on your way to a relationship with someone else. But until you make that choice, nothing can happen. And it is not because no one could love you, Severus. It is because you are not allowing yourself to love anyone." 

Mr. Potter demonstrated once again that despite his maturity, he was still very young. He believed in the redeeming power of love, beauty, and no doubt soul mates. He would grow out of it soon enough. 

Mr. Potter stood up abruptly. 

"My previous orders weren't as clear as they needed to be. In future, when you need to cut, come to me. Unless it will actively endanger your life or mine, I don't care what I'm doing, or what time of day it is. You will come to me. Understood?" 

"Yes sir." 

"Since you have shown that you cannot be trusted with your own well-being, I will be checking for any signs of self-mutilation daily, and I'll be monitoring how much you eat." 

I opened my mouth to protest, but shut it again when I saw how determined he was. I bowed my head in acceptance instead. This was my punishment. On the whole, I think I would have preferred a session of _Crucio_. 

We attended the classes that day in awkward silence. Mr. Potter made no further mention of the cuts, but neither of us was quite ready to relax. It wasn't until we had to present a united front to Mr. Fletcher that our relationship took on the illusion of normality. 

"We have another problem we were hoping you could help us with, Mr. Potter. We need a diversion. It should be safe – we simply need you to appear in Hogsmeade, and cast sufficient magic to overwhelm any detectors in the village." 

"What on earth would be my excuse for that? Destroying a fountain because I thought it was harbouring Death Eaters?" asked Mr. Potter sarcastically. 

"Nothing that dramatic, Mr. Potter. Simply entertain your fans." 

"Entertain my fans?" He drew the words out, as if he was uncertain of their meaning. 

"Yes, why not? You've done it before, surely." 

"No. I can say categorically that I have never performed any action with the intention of entertaining my 'fans'." 

"Ah, well, this would be a good time to start then." 

I watched in amusement as Mr. Potter took a few deep breaths. 

"What exactly do you require from this distraction? Just strong magic?" 

"Well, strong magic and an obvious innocuous source for it. We don't want them triggering any secondary safety measures." 

"So, it needs to be as strong as I can make it, and obviously me." 

"Yes, that about sums it up. Are you free next Tuesday?" 

"Very well," replied Mr. Potter in a clipped voice. He was still irritated when we left to return home. 

"Ready to meet your public, Mr. Potter?" 

"I am not going out there to perform like some sort of trained dog!" 

"Well, in your case I'm sure they wouldn't mind you being untrained." 

"Very funny, Severus. I do have another idea, though." 

"Oh yes?" I asked with a sense of foreboding. 

"This does strike me as the perfect opportunity to try summoning spirits." 

"You're not seriously considering summoning unbound spirits, Mr. Potter?" 

"Yes, I am." 

"Are you insane? You're going to go against all previous wisdom, and try this potentially lethal experiment on the whims of this Vocare woman?" 

"I'm not relying on her whims, Severus. I'm relying on mine. This feels right. It makes sense to me, and I'm prepared to try it." 

"But…" 

"Enough, Severus. I have made my decision." 

How dare he be so cavalier about his own well-being when he was being so pedantic about mine? Well, since he didn't seem to be willing to listen to me, I was forced to enlist the aid of someone he would listen to – Headmaster Dumbledore. As soon as I had retired to my room, I composed a message and sent it off by owl. The Headmaster had worked with me long enough to know not to mention me as the source of any of his information, and Mr. Potter would not be allowed to endanger himself this way.


End file.
